


Fantasia

by prettier_in_enochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Human Castiel, M/M, Religious Content, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettier_in_enochian/pseuds/prettier_in_enochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak was never one to stray from the path. All his life he saw his life laid out in front of him as clear and precise as the sheet music scattered around his feet. Until he heard the discordant notes Dean Winchester played.</p><p>He should have turned away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasia

**Author's Note:**

> Intro- n. pl. (in·tros) Informal  
> An introduction.

It started with a sonata

He really wasn't sure which one. The song was never one of his favorites. In fact, he really didn't like the piece at all. If anything it served as a distraction, a conductor of his rage. 

Rage for what? 

Nobody was certain. Not even the boy himself. In reality what constituted as rage was really a sinking feeling, a feeling of inconformity, of being miserable. Pale fingers raced along the ivory, screaming, whispering, telling a story in between. This was all he could do. Maybe, maybe if he played loud enough they wo-

"Castiel."

A gentle thunk resounded as the fingers stilled, killing the melody in their wake. Wide cerulean eyes turned to meet soulless clouded ones.

"Yes Zachariah?"

Castiel raised himself from the wooden stool, straightening his worn silk tie.

"Be sure to be ready for the morning service. We don't want to be late do we?"

Zachariah let his eyes linger in the pale scrawny boy. Castiel may have been seventeen but his haggard appearance gave off the illusion of a much younger boy. Maybe if he got rid of that trench coat...

"Yes sir."

Castiel nodded in understanding, Zachariah's retreating footsteps echoing and fading against the marble floor. A breath escaped the boy's lips as he resumed his position against the piano seat. He turned around and gazed at the ebony and ivory keys calling to him. They were his solace, his home. After the death of parents he never got a chance to know, music was the only thing he had to keep the memory of the family he once had alive. The warm pads of his fingers made contact with the cool exterior of the piano.

A minor. B flat.

Not that he wasn't grateful to Zachariah, who instead of letting them fend for themselves in an orphanage had taken Castiel and his siblings in. However, sometimes he had to wonder if this was all there was to know. 

F sharp. D major.

He had nothing against his life. Sure, he was comfortable. In times of need he had his religion, his God. It was enough for him. So in hindsight, Castiel was content. Mildly curious, but content. He reached for the protective covering of the keyboard and clicked it shut. Adjusting his beloved trench coat, Castiel padded his way to the front door, feeling the crisp air take over his senses in a way that made him feel alive.

"Yes," He thought. "this is enough."

**************

"Dean."

"Mmph."

"Dean"

"'way Sammy."

Sam Winchester looked down at what was supposed to be his older brother, Or he assumed it was his older brother. He wasn't exactly sure with all the pillows piled up around his dear brother's face. Sam peered down the crack between the pillows, finding himself face to face with his brother's speckled dirty brown hair. Making a last minute decision, Sam decided to put his annoying little brother status to use

"ARE YOU HUNG OVER AGAIN?"

This time a hand rose from the blankets and swatted at the air followed by a disgruntled "goddamn it Sam!"  
Sam smiled, chuckling at himself for a successful mission.

"Dude, you have to get up, it's almost 10 and dad's supposed to be coming back soon."

Something that sounded like "mmmghfffds" rumbled from underneath the blankets. Sam frowned his patented bitch face at the mound of blankets.

"Dean there's a hot girl outside."

"Mmgdkglg"

"Dean I finished all the cherry pie."

"mmmm tha' nice..."

"Dean someone keyed the impala."

That got a rise from the blankets, suddenly spilling over to uncover a shirtless messy haired Dean looking furious.

"I'll kill the bastards that hurt my baby!"

Dean turned to look at his younger brother who smiled back like an idiot. He groaned in frustration, running a hand through his messy patch of hair.

"You're evil Sammy. you know that?"

Sam shrugged nonchalantly as if he had no idea what Dean was talking about.

"You had to get up sometime Dean."

Sam stated as he trotted over to the window and flung open the curtains without warning. Dean nearly cried in pain

"Dude, you sure you aren't Satan's spawn or something?!"

Sam shrugged again, throwing some clothes in his brother's general direction and heading to their small kitchen. Dean languidly made his way from the bed into the tiny apartment restroom he shared with his brother and his father when the man bothered to be around. Red rimmed leaf green eyes greeted him in the mirror, set in a tired face with messy dirty hair. The face staring back at him looked a lot over seventeen, rumpled and folded by the pressures of having to grow up too fast. The alcohol didn't help much either, it only offered the comfort of sound sleep at night. Dean pawed at the black tattoo on his left pectoral, looking fondly at it. It always brought back memories on what it was like when they were a family. Before the fire. Before Mary d-

"Deeeaaannn, I got breakfast ready!"

Sam yelled from the kitchen. Dean jumped as he was brought back to reality. He smiled despite himself, slipping his green cotton shirt on and making his way to the kitchen. Dean glanced at the table, only to find a chunk of abused cherry pie on an old plate and a mug of steaming coffee waiting for him. Sam bounded up to him with his own breakfast of eggs and toast on hand.

"You sure know how to make breakfast don't you? We'll make a proper housewife out of you yet Samantha!"

Sam elbowed his brother playfully as he swallowed down his eggs.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Dean smiled and dug into his pie. Maybe he had too many responsibilities, maybe he had problems out the deep end and a splitting headache to match, but in the long run things were okay. Sammy was healthy and smiling and he was making it through.

"Yes." he thought through another forkful of pie "This was not that bad."


End file.
